


Holmes is Synonymous to Drama Queen

by DoctorRainyStardusttheThird (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Helicopters, Other, Sherlock too, haha donovan is a bitch, janine is a secret agent who knew, mycroft is such a drama queen, nothing much just thought i'd do this, surprise for the yarders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DoctorRainyStardusttheThird
Summary: Sherlock is solving a crime with the Yarders one day when he hangs up on someone.A second later there's a helicopter hanging over them.Mycroft never could resist a dramatic touch.





	Holmes is Synonymous to Drama Queen

**Author's Note:**

> So in this story mycroft, sherlock, anthea and janine (sherlock's irish girlfriend) are all secret agents. No mary. 
> 
> sherlock is working with mi6 but he calls himself scott holmes when he's with them. sherlock holmes=consulting detective, scott holmes=secret agent
> 
> double life yay!!
> 
> sherlock didn't get with janine just to get to magnussen - they're actually secretly dating ooo!
> 
> whoop whoop i loved janine so sassy (i had a tiny crush)
> 
> enjoy and pls comments and kudos xx

Sherlock was leaning against the wall on his phone. Another case was solved, thanks to the consulting detective. A man had been found dead in on the beach, from a combination of heroin overdose and subsequent drowning. It’d looked like suicide, until Sherlock had proved otherwise. The body had been taken away and now the Yarders were milling around the beach, chatting. Sherlock, on the other hand, was distracted. Lestrade, John, Anderson and Donovan watched him tear a strip off the person on the other end of the line. He jabbed the ‘end call’ button and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

‘God’s sake,’ he muttered, making his way over.

‘Gavin,’ he said to Lestrade. ‘I think I should warn you about something.’

‘It’s Greg,’ Lestrade said, irritated. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Who were you calling?’ John asked curiously. ‘You hate answering calls. Didn’t they know that?’

‘Au contraire, John,’ Sherlock sighed. ‘Mycroft knows that all too well. Yet another way he goes out of his way to annoy me.’

‘Who’s Mycroft?’ Donovan muttered to Anderson. Anderson shook his head.

‘What were you going to warn me about?’ Lestrade asked, but as he spoke, a loud whirring grew in volume, and a helicopter appeared overhead. It lowered towards the ground, scattering Yarders in all directions, shouting in surprise. Sherlock opened his mouth to explain, then shut it again. ‘That,’ he said.

The helicopter began to circle above them, looking for a place to land. ‘Shit,’ Sherlock said, and John and Lestrade looked at him in surprise. It was unlike Sherlock to swear. ‘Who’s Mycroft?’ Lestrade called, as Sherlock strode around, looking for someplace to hide.

Suddenly, a voice boomed from the helicopter. ‘Scott Holmes, why were you ignoring my calls?’

Sherlock sighed, exasperated. ‘Fuck off, Mycroft!’ he called to the helicopter above.

The Yarders were staring at him now. _‘Scott_ Holmes?’ John asked.,

‘That’s not very nice, Scott,’ the disembodied voice scolded. Sherlock gave the helicopter the finger.

‘You do not hang up on me, Scott. This is a state of national emergency.’

‘There’s always a national emergency!’ Sherlock yelled in annoyance.

‘The Prime Minister and the director of the secret service are both demanding your presence, Scott dear. Believe me when I say I have no particular desire for your company.’

Sherlock made a rude gesture again. The Yarders were watching in shock. Sherlock rarely acted so childish.

‘Don’t make me come down there,’ the voice warned.

‘I prevented a terror attack _last_ week, Mycroft!’ Sherlock yelled. ‘Don’t I get a holiday? I was shot!’

‘It was a flesh wound, you’ve had worse. Don’t make me come down there.’ The voice was severe, like a parent telling off their young child.

Sherlock kicked a rock angrily as the helicopter lowered and landed. He didn’t rush out of it’s way like the Yarders, staying stubbornly where he was, even as the wind whipped his coat and curls around wildly.

Donovan and Anderson watched in shock as somebody descended from the helicopter. He was older, maybe early forties, and reasonably handsome, well-dressed in a three-piece suit complete with a watchchain, and he leant on an umbrella as he climbed down.

He stopped in front of Sherlock, who had his arms crossed. ‘Hello, little brother.’

‘Oh my God,’ Donovan whispered. ‘There’s two of them.’

‘I heard that, Sergeant Donovan,’ the man said sharply, at the same time Sherlock snapped, ‘Shut up, Donovan!’

Donovan blinked. There was no way they could’ve heard her, not over the helicopter blades. But it appeared they had.

‘Brother mine, London’s terror alert has been raised to critical. The secret service needs you – loath as I am to say it, _I_ need you.’ The man – Mycroft – sighed and leaned on his umbrella. In the background, the helicopter cut out.

‘I was right in the middle of a case.’

Mycroft snorted and looked around. ‘This?’ he said derisively. ‘This is child’s play, brother dear.’

‘It’s nice to work on a simple case, for once. One where the stability of the country doesn’t hang in the balance. Life as a field agent is – dare I say it – very stressful, Mycroft.’

‘Scott,’ Mycroft sighed, looking frustrated. ‘Much as I hate to say it, you’re the best we’ve got. Hundreds of people could die and I’d really rather that didn’t happen, all because you were childish and couldn’t keep your double life balanced.’

Lestrade was totally boggled, and once glance at John told him he felt the same. Wo was this brother who knew the Prime Minister and the director of the secret service? Why did they want to see Sherlock? Why did he keep calling Sherlock Scott? And…a double life?

‘Excuse me,’ John said, marching forwards. ‘But who the hell are you?’

Mycroft looked unimpressed. ‘I’m Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s elder brother. I occupy a minor position in the British Government.’

‘Minor?’ Lestrade scoffed. The helicopter looked sleek and expensive, with tinted windows. He couldn’t help noticing a section at the back that looked as though it might deploy missiles if a situation arose in which they were needed.

‘You know what, John once called me a drama queen, but I am not a patch on you, brother mine.’

‘I am not a drama queen!’ Mycroft said, looking affronted.

Sherlock coughed, letting his eyes travel deliberately towards the helicopter and the loudspeaker.

‘Desperate times, little brother!’

‘This is not desperate. I have at least a week to solve the case. I could probably do it in three days if Janine wasn’t tied up in the Magnussen case.’

‘Brother dear, if you do not get in the helicopter this minute, I’ll –‘

‘You’ll what, exactly?’

Mycroft merely widened his eyes, and a moment later three men carrying machine guns encircled Sherlock. The Yarders gasped and scurried back. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, unperturbed.

‘Is he being arrested?’ Donovan murmured in horror.

John took in the suited men, the helicopter, the loudhailer. ‘Seems a bit extensive.’

‘Janine is here. You can see her.’

‘I see her when I want to anyway, Mycroft. You can’t confiscate my _girlfriend.’_

Anderson, Donovan, John and Lestrade exchanged startled looks.

‘Fine…fine,’ Mycroft said, with the air of someone grasping at strings. ‘I’ll take away your violin.’

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘I would, brother mine. And I will.’

Sherlock sighed, sensing defeat. ‘But terror attacks are so _boring!’_ he complained flippantly. ‘So samey.’

Mycroft didn’t rise. He jabbed his umbrella at the helicopter. ‘Get in.’

‘I was shot last week! Don’t I get sick leave?’

‘That graze wouldn’t get you a week off work even amongst the goldfish, brother mine! Get. In. The. Helicopter.’

‘Do you not care about blowing my cover at all?’

‘In!’

As Sherlock ascended the steps, somebody else appeared. Her long dark hair whipped round her face. In the doorway to the helicopter, she looped graceful arms round Sherlock’s neck and kissed him passionately.

Mycroft huffed. ‘Now is _not the time.’_

The Yarders exchanged amazed and incredulous glances as the helicopter doors shut and the aircraft began to move off. Then the loudspeaker boomed again.

‘Get a room, you two. We are in the  middle of a national security breach so if you could keep your hands off of each other for _one moment –‘_

‘You and Anthea are worse.’

There were some indignant spluttering sounds, growing fainter as the helicopter began to move away.

‘There’s a certain drunken escapade I could mention,’ Sherlock drawled, ‘where the stolen van ended up in the Nile, because you couldn’t stop texting her.’

Mycroft began to talk back before a woman’s voice interrupted, with a strong Irish accent. ‘Boys!’ she scolded. ‘You do realise the loudspeaker is still on, right? The Yarders can hear every word you’re saying.’

The Yarders and John exchanged glances. They all looked like they’d been whacked in the head with something heavy. This was a lot to process.

Turns out there was a lot more to the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes than they’d previously thought.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked :)
> 
> comments, kudos, constructive criticism and prompts all super super welcome!
> 
> smiles xx


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